LONG, long ago, when the animals were able to speak, two brothers called Jack and Balten lived in a little hut in a dense and gloomy forest in Flanders.

Needless to say they were very poor or they would not have lived in this lonely wood.

One day, Jack was sitting at the window plaiting a whip, while Balten was at the fire preparing their supper. Suddenly a wolf rushed into the house with his mouth wide open and ran towards Jack. The latter, seeing his danger, looked to his brother for help. He had an inspiration and cried loudly: “Balten, pour! Balten, pour!” Balten understood what Jack meant. Quick as lightning he seized the saucepan and poured the boiling soup over the wolf.

The wolf fled out of the door howling with pain, for his back was terribly burnt, while Jack and Balten, having recovered from their fright, laughing heartily, watched him run off into the distance.

When the wolf, half dead with pain and shame, heard peals of laughter behind him, he turned round and shouted to them:

“Ah, ruffians, good-for-nothings and scoundrels, you are much amused, but wait; whichever one of you I see first I shall devour!” So saying he disappeared among the trees.

Shortly afterwards Jack went to gather acorns for their little pig. He was deep in the forest, when suddenly he saw a wolf a few yards in front of him, watching him from among the bushes.

Jack was very much frightened, especially as he saw scars on the wolf’s back, and thus immediately recognized him as the one they had so shamefully handled. The wolf stared at Jack, and on recognizing him sprang at him, crying:

“Oh, ruffian, good-for-nothing! You are one of the scoundrels who treated me so badly that I dare not show my face anywhere. Wait! I shall at once make mincemeat of you.”

The wolf was about to spring at Jack, but the latter, seeing that to fight would be useless, climbed like a cat up the nearest tree. There he was high and dry and out of his enemy’s reach, as he fondly imagined. But the wolf was not to be thwarted; smothering his rage he disappeared behind the bushes.

“I will stay quietly here,” thought Jack. “I must be on my guard against this wretch. I lose nothing by waiting.”

He was right, for in five minutes the wolf returned accompanied by a dozen wolves as bad as himself.

“Ha ha, scoundrel,” he cried, “you will not escape me this time! If you think you are safe you are greatly mistaken, you know. We shall have you down in no time.”

What did the wolf do?

He planted himself firmly near the tree trunk and formed the base of a ladder for his companions. They seemed quite accustomed to this trick, for another wolf immediately climbed on the shoulders of the first. Then a third and fourth followed his example.

At first Jack was very much amused at the idea of such a ladder and roared with laughter. But he soon realized that it was no joke, but a very serious matter. The ladder of wolves became so high that Jack, frightened out of his wits, had to climb into the topmost branches of the tree.

The ladder became yet higher!

“Have you caught him?” cried the first wolf.

“A little higher,” replied the topmost wolf.

“Do not let him escape,” shouted the first wolf, “for it is a tasty morsel and we shall enjoy it. It is such a long time since I have eaten any that I quite forget the taste of human flesh.”

“So do I,” said another wolf; whereupon they all laughed.

Jack was in no laughing mood; he was so frightened that he had cold shivers down his spine.

“Oh, heavens!” he thought, “what a terrible death to be eaten alive! What will my poor brother say when I fail to return? I have no means of defending myself, not even boiling soup.”

The wolf which was to reach him had already begun to ascend; he heard him grunting and panting. In his distress Jack had an inspiration and began to shout at the top of his voice: “Balten, pour! Balten, pour!”

This had a curious effect. The first wolf, who supported all the others on his shoulders and who knew by experience what “Balten, pour!” meant, believed that Balten was behind the tree ready to throw boiling soup on his back. He leapt aside as quick as lightning and ran like a hare. At the same time all the wolves fell down one on top of the other, howling fiercely. One had a paw broken, another a crushed foot, and a third had his head smashed in.

All swore at their cowardly comrade, who had organized the undertaking and then so treacherously deserted them. Those of them who were still able to run chased the coward and soon caught him.

“Oh! that is the way we were to help you get the man out of the tree. Your intention was to do us all a bad turn.”

They all set on to the unhappy wretch, who only made good his escape after having all his skin torn off and losing an ear.

Jack, now recovered from his fright, was a spectator of this scene and laughed long and loud. “What a curious result my crying ‘Balten, pour!’ had,” he thought, and he returned home.

More than a year passed and neither Jack nor Balten had met the famous wolf.

The time came when Jack had to take the little pig, now well fattened, to market. After selling it, he was on his way home, when he was attacked by robbers. They stole his money and knocked him about. Not satisfied with this, they put him into an empty barrel, which they found by the roadside, and nailed down the lid.

Poor Jack was now a prisoner and could not imagine how he could ever hope to escape. There was only one aperture, through which he could hardly squeeze his hand.

However, he did not despair. “Time cures everything,” he thought; “I have been in greater danger!”

For several hours he was thinking and meditating in the barrel. Suddenly he heard a sniff quite close to him. He looked out and saw the wolf, the famous wolf with scars on his back!

Jack watched him, and as soon as the animal’s tail was within his reach, he seized it through the hole in the barrel and cried as loud as ever he could:

“Balten, pour! Balten, pour!”

This shout again had the desired effect: the wolf, mad with fear, fled, dragging the barrel after him. Jack held tightly on to his tail, shouting all the time as loudly as before: “Balten pour! Balten, pour!”

The louder he shouted, the faster ran the wolf. The barrel crashed and banged against the trees, it cracked and finally broke. The ribs fell in and Jack found himself once more on his feet, none the worse except for a few bruises.

The wolf ran on and on. Perhaps he is running still?